


Drunk Grunt

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Gears of War (Video Games)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Cunnilingus, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Menstruation, Menstruation Kink, Olfactophilia, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Scent Kink, Suspension, eating vs. eating out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 09:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Summary: A Locust Grunt smells something delicious on the wind. So, naturally, he follows it to the source.A/N: For Kinktober Day 25 (scent). Please read the tags for warnings. <3





	Drunk Grunt

Meat on the air. Blood in his nostrils. Against his palms, his claws dug and dented; black ichor flowing. 

His group did not pause when he did. They did not smell it like he did - did not need it as he needed it. None of his fellow grunts lowered their rifles to better twist and sniff the air; nostrils flaring and breath gushing through sharp, uneven bone-teeth. 

The wind blew and another waft of the juicy smell came with it. He bit his incisors until his own gums bled freely, snarling out pink spittle until it drooled down his chin. He - battle fodder for the Queen - honed in on the direction of the scent. 

A Grunt with no name and divergent purpose parted from his hunched, singled-minded brethren in search for the delicious odor. 

As he followed the reeking odor, his male organ began to swell. It had only engorged once before, on the day he crawled his way out of his birthing sac. From what he knew, the breeding pods took care of most of their procreation but there were those that were allotted rights to do so with the same meaty weight that strained beneath burlap pants and stiff buckles. He had not been chosen by his queen, nor ordered to mate and yet, as he bathed in the scent, his organ continued to swell and with it the chanting of the hive grew quieter. 

The scent of carnage did not come from a thousand masticated corpses or a fallen bloodworm but a group of scorned humans. The smallest of their flock was a lone female judging by the larger hips and inflated chest. She was farther away from her herd - farther from safety. He watched from behind a column of stone refuse as she wandered farther away, into the outskirts of the ruined cityscapes. 

The human female was no longer safe. 

Overgrown trees and winding roots hugged the white bricks that rose as high as a midday sun, but she ventured into a clearing where the wind blew like an air tunnel in the pits; billowing her smell into his nostrils until saliva pooled between his teeth. 

She slipped into a shaded hovel of ancient human shelter to scavenge a pile of garbage made of wooden waste and stone. None of it was worth her time because none of them deserved the time they had and least of all a poorly armed female begging to be split down the middle. If she wanted to remain unharmed, she should have brought a bigger gun. 

Grunt hefted his weapon from his shoulder holster, sucking down the taste in the air: blood, death, and life. There was something so distinctly unique to the tang that it had riled up the blood between his legs… at a junction that rarely was thought of outside a necessary use or the odd prideful daydream. Now, his organ was stiff and pounding and his tongue felt fat and dry. The smell from the female churned his gut like bloodworms festering through a corpse… maddening him to his marrow. So, hungry for something outside his forte… so starved for her flesh. 

Eating a human was not uncommon, but he didn’t think this urge was for sustenance. This desire was new and power-rich. 

It was of no concern to him if her fellow humans caught sight of an approaching Grunt, though they did not and his need for carnage was less than his need for the female. They were poorly armed and another horde would come along to dispose of them eventually.

All it took was a meaty roar and slight spray of Bolter ammo to send the three human males scurrying like the vermin they were. They had spared no concerns to the female lady behind… a juicy pile of sweet-smelling meat, now standing taller than before with her mediocre pistol raised in the air; aimed at his cranium. The weapon shook as he slowly charged across the ruined human city trash towards her. 

Her hesitation was delicious but it did not last. Grunt was ready for the sign when her trembling hand steadied, preparing to take her shot. He lifted his gun, fired a precision bullet and grinned with sticky, parted fangs as the pistol was shot right out of her hands. 

Sparks flew. She gasped with those soft human lips and even softer cheeks that ran red. More of that delicious odor spilled into the air like a lethal poison meant to disarm him, but she was already surrendering, raising her empty palms above her head in a prey-like crouch. 

He was not so stupid with the scent to lower his weapon until he’d kicked her flimsy archaic pistol clean across the weed-riddled stone. Wide, vegetation-colored eyes blinked and water fell from them down her fatty cheeks. She was soft and flushed and… soft meat... 

If he was to catch back up with his horde before sundown, Grunt needed to devour her quickly and not allow the aching meat below his pelvis to distract him from a potent snack. Eating her… took on a new meaning once he snatched her up. As expected, she screamed and cursed, gave him a kick in the stomach but he curled his abdominals and took the blows like soft rain against his scales, snarling pointed teeth against her face until she stilled; paralyzed in terror and leaked more of that overwhelming… scent… more saliva-pooling stench...

Drool slid around his boney teeth, dribbling off his chin as it swam against his taste buds. Mindless, thanks to the stocky, sweet stench, he sagged around her until he was gripped with a strange, carnal urge. Instead of sinking his teeth into her face and tearing himself a chunk of cheek and fat, he licked her nose and one wide twitching eyeball. The smell was lower so he snorted and ran his tongue down around her exposed neck. Flavorful. Salty. Grunt savored the taste and delved his tongue further between the thin fabric armor; pulling helpings of human-spice from between the useless, enticing balls of fat hanging off her chest. 

“... lower,” he snarled against her shivering form. Her weak sob brought him to his knees, forcing her into a limp surrender in his claws.

Grunt shoved her down against a slab of chipped granite where the sun was blocked off by the low ceiling; shrouding half of her in blue midday shadow. Further past her extended chest, he huffed and licked, tugging away old garments with his teeth and claws the closer he came to the source. He shredded her poorly grafted pants, sliced through skin and even thinner fabric before he was hit was the thick, iron tang. So saturated were his olfactory glands by the drug she oozed that the effects were like fermented imulsion in his belly.

“You. Are. Mine,” he snarled against the delicate flesh above that red-soaked junction between her thighs.

The female did not agree, for she began to sob and beg and scream until her throat ran dry. After a while of this maddening sound that made his male organ throb, she seemed to accept her fate and merely sunk across his thighs - back stuck with sweat to the slab of stone - as he pet down her too soft curves, marveling at why the horde did not keep a pool of ones just like her. She was delicious and he hadn’t even gorged himself on her yet. 

Already bleeding… already weeping, Grunt relished, staring down at the frayed looking flesh below her crotch. He couldn’t wait a moment longer… so, with two fistfuls of her fragile thighs, he drew them open until she cried. He dove his mouth between her legs; lapping and swallowing down that thick, clotted blood with a vigor unmatched only by violence. She was even more palatable than she smelt… so delicious, he felt possessed by the hive, yet it was just him - just him and this sweet female with her gentle cries and moans.

The smell soaked into the softer flesh between his denser scales, painting his nostrils in crimson as he shoved the girth of his tongue within. The female trembled, reeking of salty tears and musky blood and something even luscious. The near bottomless flood of iron-rich slick fed him with every curl of the tongue and swipe of her wrinkled, weightless folds.

“... sweetness,” he snarled, fighting off her sudden bolt of energy with a fist around her waist and one latched around her throat. Still, she squirmed, making airy sounds like a dying mammal; groaning and moaning as if in pain but that syrup that was not blood, but tasted just as good, flowed faster. The sounds were strangled but he kept feasting on her with a hungry tongue alone, finding more aromatic juice deep within the tight chasm of her body.

Blood - sugared with something foreign and delicious - satiated him. Her arms, which had been trying to beat him off moments before were now threaded around his scalps, pushing him deeper into her fountain of riches. Grunt drank from her body, nicking outside lips but the blood that bled there wasn’t nearly as invigorating.

The taste inside strengthened him. It made that organ between his thighs pulsate but the strange, writhing muscles that sucked around his tongue and the females hard, wailing sob did not urge him to bite into her supple flesh again. When he’d finally digested as much of her leaking blood as he could, he did not tear meat from bone or snap her neck like he’d thought he would.

The odd dollops that leaked out the very depths of her said she was far from done giving him what he’d come for… so he slid the wet, blood-saturated length of his tongue up over light, fragrant hair, across a twitching belly and straight up to her mouth, grinning maliciously as she blinked tears over red-colored cheeks.

“Delicious… human female. You. Belong. To. Me. Now...”

Even though he raked his teeth down her jaw and licked under her chin with dark promise for more red milkings, she swallowed around the palm he had wrapped around her throat and nodded as best she could. The softest, quietest of moans flooded his cleaved ears and from her parted lips she spoke a pliant, “...oh’okay…” that pleased him greatly.

Grunt grinned, deciding he’d spend the next several hours drinking her down while finding a way to soothe the tight, burgeoning flesh stretching his lower dressings. The little, juicy female was his for the taking and he would find many… endless… perverse ways of enjoying her. May his horde trudge on without him, because the call to the hive was too weak to drag him away from this vulnerable and resigned female.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have the time, please leave me a comment letting me know what worked for you or what didn't.
> 
> Thank you to Flesh Dust for betaing! <3
> 
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